


Returning the Favour

by VulpesVulpes713



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friendship, Not Shippy, Voltron, and explain the markings on Lance's cheeks, and not mourn the rest of his life, just accepting, let this boy recover, to help bridge the gap season 8 left us with, vld, vld post season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 19:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17813879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: In which those Altean markings Lance was left with prove to be more than mere reminders of a past love.





	Returning the Favour

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't meant to be a shippy fic between Lance and Allura. I am acknowledging their relationship for the sake of the story to make it feel as genuine as possible. And to be honest I never really minded them together (I 100% loved klance more but hey) but it was rushed and messy.
> 
> Based completely on [this](http://joleanart.tumblr.com/post/182251774459/giving-back-i-believe-lances-markings-hold-altean) by [joleanart](http://joleanart.tumblr.com/)

It’s not easy, bringing a planet back from the brink.

And it’s not easy being the one to do it either.

But Altea is struggling, despite its new rebirth, and no matter how the cosmos celebrates, Lance knows there’s something wrong.

See, the trees won’t take root, as if the ground of the once desolate rock is lacking the life to support growth. Which makes sense, given that Altea had been sitting vacant for millennia, but no matter what Pidge tries, the soil remains cold.

And the land is barren: the food bitter and tough, like the creatures that had survived and evolved to live on the new world prior to salvation. Nothing Hunk does can make it palatable, and he worries how the people will thrive without crops of their own.

There’s a lack of quintessence, Coran informs them, and Shiro nods as he flexes the fingers of his artificial arm. He can sense it, Lance is told, and he’s fearful that the planet will die all over again if they do nothing.

So Keith is sent out with the rest of the Blades to find a source that doesn’t rely on the sacrifices of the inhabitants, as Lotor had once attempted. But he comes back with very little good news, and Lance slips away from the meeting to sit by the sculpture of their saviour: the one who brought them all back from the brink in a universe of her own creation.

It’s dusk, and the distant star this planet calls its sun gives the sky a pastel shade of pink that colours the mountains and the fields, and the lakes. It reminds Lance of her, and he glances up at the symbol they’d built in her honour, standing tall and proud and triumphant on a planet she never got to see reborn.

“Allura,” he begins, her name a sigh that leaves his lips. “We’re running out of ideas. Nothing we try is working, and…and I’m scared that we’re going to be too late. That your planet…your  _home_ , will vanish right in front of our eyes.”

A tear slips down over his cheek, and he rubs away the wetness, fingers lingering on the markings that act as reminders. The memories they hold are good for the most part, but there are nights when Lance can’t sleep because of the soft glow beneath his eyes. He wonders if things would have been different, had Allura chosen a different path. He wonders if he should have been quicker in making the sacrifice for them instead.

And he wonders if she can see him from wherever she is: either as part of the stars or the vastness that keeps them together.

“I don’t know what to do…” he confesses, and something glistens on the horizon. Lance squints as he tries to focus on it, but it’s gone before he can determine its cause. “What the…”

He’s been through enough to know not to blatantly ignore random lights and flashes, and finds himself up on his feet and heading in the direction it had come from before he can think much of it.

But there’s something else driving him onwards. Some… _feeling_  that puts a bounce in his step, forcing him to run towards the forests that border the city.

He slows here, maneuvering through the branches with care. They’re fragile, after all. The leaves are paper and lace, held by spider silk that will snap with a breath. Because the forest is dying, like the rest of the planet.

Lance picks up the pace.

He’s not sure for how long he walks, but when he turns to look over his shoulder, Allura’s sculpture is diminished in size on the horizon, and if he stares long enough it’s almost like she’s really there, waving for him to come back.

But Lance knows she’s not, and as if to urge him forward, a star shoots across the darkening sky overhead, streaking in the direction he’d been headed.

_I’m going, don’t worry,_ he thinks, a misplaced smile coming to his lips. He can’t help but feel as though he’s being guided forward, and as he continues the markings on his cheeks begin to warm.

Night falls rapidly on Altea, but Lance isn’t afraid of the dark. Space is bright above him, and lines of dancing colours point him in the right direction. Lance finds himself wondering if Allura is painting those just for him, or if auroras are a common occurrence on Altea. Whatever the case, he keeps going.

Eventually, the canopy of the trees begins to open, allowing more light to pass to the ground. Not that Lance needs it at this point: up ahead a massive pale blue crystal pulses lethargically out of rhythm, glowing bright and fading in periodic beats.

He slows, and the markings on his face begin to mimic the pattern of the crystal until they’re in sync.  

Glowing. Darkness. Glowing, glowing, darkness again.

Lance stares in awe, and then his fingertips begin to tingle. His attention falls down to them, and he gasps as he sees specs of blue light float around his hands like dust in sunshine, blinking in and out of existence with each glowing pulse.

And just like that, he gets it.

“Allura,” he hears himself say, lifting his face to gaze up at the sky. The stars stare back, and Lance nods once to let them know he understands. “I know what to do.”

He approaches the crystal, and up close he can see it’s cracked and brittle, the glowing light a result of something brighter peeking out from within. A lifeforce, he thinks, pleading for help.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, and his hands reach out to touch the surface: cool and smooth at first, but growing warmer and warmer as more contact is made.

The marks on his cheeks glow as his palms connect, and then everything is still.

Silent.

Unmoving.

Altea is watching him, holding its breath as it waits. So Lances inhales deeply, and closes his eyes to focus.

_It’s time to wake up now,_  he incites. _It’s time to come back._

_The universe misses you._

The crystal radiates light, and even with his lids shut it’s overwhelming. It’s fierce, and it’s hot, and it burns where his hands touch and brings tears that slide down his face.

But he doesn’t let go.

In fact, he pushes forward, _into_  the crystal, feeling every crevice and divet and imperfection. And he fills them, fixes them, heals them.

With the powers Allura once held - the gift she’d bestowed before her final sacrifice - Lance gives back. The ground beneath him shivers as it stirs. The trees groan as their branches lift up to stretch. Vines wrap around his feet, sprouting flowers of all sorts, and Lance begins to laugh as he feels Altea come alive.

Brighter, and brighter, but he can’t look away now. His eyes are open, glowing the same colour as the marks on his cheeks, as the crystal beneath his palms, and it’s extraordinary.

Above him, the sky spins and the stars twinkle: the cosmos laughing as he does, and to Lance, it’s a familiar sound. One he’s sure he’s heard before.

He looks upward as the world around him is bathed in blue light, and for a split second, he swears he can see her smiling up there. But then the crystal pulses, and a wave of energy spreads out from its center, washing over the land in visible bands that extend beyond the horizon: ripples in water originating from the stone Lance threw.

And just like that, it’s over.

Lance steps back, breathless and shaking, and feels that same tingle in his fingertips move up to his face and settle beneath his eyes. And when he reaches up to touch the markings Allura had given him, he finds the skin there smooth and dark: no longer glowing with the symbols of Altea.

But he isn’t remorseful over their loss. Instead, he feels content. Satisfied, as though he’s obtained closure by giving back that which was entrusted to him.

And he sighs in relief as he returns his attention to the universe above, wondering if it’s just his imagination that’s making the stars glimmer so fondly. No words are spoken. No messages are sent. But Lance knows she’s up there, experiencing the same emotions.

Because it’s not easy, bringing a planet back from the brink. But it can be done, if there’s enough love going into it. That’s all it takes really.

Love, and a bit of Altean magic.


End file.
